


For the Wrath of a Wayward Manatee

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Obscure Buffy References, Snow, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor misses his mark one too many times, forcing Donna to lose a Christmas with her aging grandfather. It takes a lot to make it up to her but for his best friend, it's worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Wrath of a Wayward Manatee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patriciatepes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/gifts).



> For [Multifan Gift Exchange](http://multifan-gift.livejournal.com/), a present for Patriciatepes who likes friendship fics (me too) with a holiday theme (me too!). Writing this has given me an excuse to rewatch season four of Doctor Who so thank you.

“I missed Christmas.”

The Doctor took a step back as quickly as he ever did when Donna's voice took on that tone. It was a tone that often brought projectile objects in the direction of his head. “What?”

She turned back from the door, a cold wind rushing in after her. Her arms were folded and her chin tipped up. “You made me miss Christmas. Look. Look at that. People singing Auld Lang Syne.”

“Maybe they're confused,” the Doctor said, scratching the back of his neck, “or drunk. People get drunk at Christmas.”

“They're standing in the road at midnight singing Auld Lang Syne. Loudly. I just saw some fireworks. Do you know what people don't do on Christmas day? Stand in the street singing Auld Lang Syne beneath the fireworks.”

Though for a moment the Doctor considered objecting he saw a lost cause in front of him and sagged his shoulders. “Right.”

“Don't suppose you can take me back, either.” It wasn't a question. After this long together Donna knew the rules and she knew that look of awkward contrition on the Doctor's stupid face. Donna sighed and walked out of the TARDIS without another word, slamming the door behind her.

“This is your fault,” the Doctor said, pointing his finger at the TARDIS console.

The TARDIS at least had the decency to make a quiet, apologetic hum.

-

It took a while to put together an idea.

A lot longer than it would any other day, though that was the fault of the sentient starfish that attached themselves to the outside of the TARDIS and sucked away most of its energy. The Doctor had to use the majority of his excessive brain power for a way out of that one, meaning it took longer to think of a way to make it up to Donna.

It shouldn't matter. All of his companions got angry with him sometimes. This was different, though, and the Doctor wasn't sure why. It was far from the irritating joking around that Donna usually did. That look in her eye as she left the TARDIS...

The Doctor brushed a piece of exploded sentient starfish off the bottom of his shoe and took himself back to Donna.

-

“It's a world,” the Doctor said, “completely made up of Christmas.”

Donna wrapped her coat around her chest and scowled out at the snowy landscape. She took in the candy canes, the glitter, the tinsel growing off the trees around them. There were diminutive people with little green hats on. The Doctor thought it was perfect.

It became clear that Donna did not agree with him. “You think you can just... jingle your way back into my good books, do you?”

“That's not...”

“What _did_ you mean then, Doctor?” she asked. There was none of that usual bite, just a tired resignation. “I don't care about, about baubles or sparkly things. That's not going to distract me. Do I look like a sodding magpie?"

The Doctor rubbed his neck and looked around. “Well. There are other places we can go.”

“Why? So you can accidentally make me miss my Gramps's favourite day of the year?” Donna said. She huffed and walked through the prefect powdery snow back into the TARDIS without so much as a glance back.

One of the green-hatted men looked up at the Doctor and raised his eyebrows. “Problems with the wife?”

“She's not my... oh, never mind.”

-

It was, at best, a tense ride back to Earth. The Doctor faced this head on by avoiding Donna as best he could in the short trip.

“Are you gonna apologise or what?”

The Doctor poked his head up from beneath the console. “Sorry?”

“I said... you know what, you're a pillock, that's what you are.” Donna sat down on one of the stylishly destroyed chairs and folded her arms. “You can see to the edge of the universe but you don't see a thing that's in front of you.”

That was taking it a bit far. The Doctor climbed the stairs and brushed the dust off his suit, wondering when it would be appropriate to stop trying to make it up to Donna and just kick her off the ship instead. “I didn't deliberately make you miss a holiday. And honestly I don't know what the big problem is. There are loads of Christmasses.”

“For you maybe.”

The Doctor shook his head and leaned against a railing. “It's hardly the first time that we've missed the date we were aiming for.”

“It was _Christmas_ ,” Donna said. 

“One of many.”

“Or one of the last,” Donna replied. The Doctor frowned and opened his mouth but (as usual) she didn't give him much of a chance to reply. “Look, I know you're running around with all those bigger things in your head making it hard to figure out what little old me might be getting angry about but maybe if I explain to you that my Gramps has a limited amount of Decembers left in his future before he shuffles off the mortal coil, do you see where I might have a problem?”

Even the Doctor, used to Donna's angry rants, had to admit that this one was impressive. “Well.”

“That's all you have to say?”

The Doctor paused, managed for once to take the time to consider his answer, then shrugged. “I'm sorry. I truly am. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Donna pursed her lips and shook her head as the TARDIS clanged to a halt. “Some things are more important than time and space, Doctor.”

She left him again but this time the Doctor followed. 

And he absolutely did not point out the fallacy in her statement. As fond of risk as the Doctor was, even he had his limits.

-

The TARDIS grew picturesque beneath its dusting of snow and the still of the starlit night made the city seem peaceful at last. The Doctor stood outside Donna's house with his hands in his pockets and a whole lot of uncertainty on his mind. 

This could turn out to be a very bad idea.

When Donna walked out with a hug fluffy had stuck on top of her head and her Gramps in tow the Doctor pulled out his hands and stood up straighter, waiting for her to notice him. It took her less then three seconds. They were always watching for him, his companions.

Or maybe he just stood out like a sore thumb wherever he went. 

“Doctor?”

“Donna! Donna, that's the blue box man, that's the-”

“Yes, Gramps, thank you. I do have eyes.”

The Doctor smiled and strolled over, feet crunching into the snow. “I know you're on the way for some midwinter stargazing but I thought I'd pop by,” the Doctor said, “and see how you felt about seeing the stars a bit more close up.”

“What's he talking about?”

Donna's mouth dropped open. What a wonder, the Doctor thought; he had finally made her speechless. It was fortunate her Gramps didn't have so much trouble in scraping together a response once he realised Donna had lost her tongue.

“If this is an offer to fly about in that box of yours, I'm in,” he said. He walked straight past the Doctor and stared at the TARDIS. “How are we all going to fit?”

“It's bigger on the inside,” Donna called over. A moment later she stopped staring at the Doctor and helped her Gramps open the door and head inside.

-

“And there are planets made entirely of shrimp,” the Doctor said. “I don't recommend it.”

“I know what you're doing, you know,” Donna said. 

“Showing you the sights?” asked the Doctor. The Christmas planet hadn't been much of a hit but the Easter one, however unseasonal, at least had cute rabbits and an abundance of chocolate to distract them both. Except Donna seemed just as focused as ever on the Doctor, turning to him as her Gramps bent down to stroke one of the bright pink bunnies.

“Taking us here. You're trying to get back in my good books, that's what you're doing.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Is it working?”

Donna saw her Gramps light up in a grin as the bunny flopped away and she huffed out a breath. “Well, I'll stop wishing for you to be maimed by a wayward manatee. For now.”

“What more could I ask for?” the Doctor said.

-

With all elderly family members safely returned home in one piece Donna made her way back on to the TARDIS. She put down the cylindrical box and placed her hands on her hips. “I think that's everything.”

“How did you move all of your things out without me noticing?”

Donna grinned. “I asked you a question about the TARDIS controls and that gave me forty minutes of you paying me absolutely no attention.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked up at the TARDIS, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Really? Forty minutes? I must have been keeping it brief for you.”

For a moment Donna didn't reply and then she leaned against the console, watching him closely. “That was a huge show of trust there. You bringing Gramps on board like that.” The Doctor only shrugged but Donna grinned, face lit up in pleasure. “It made his year. He'll never stop talking about it. The grin faded to a smile that would be sentimental on anyone else's face. “Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for that.”

For a moment the Doctor said nothing and then a grin broke across his face. “Now, how about that shrimp planet?”

“Only if you want me to start invoking that wayward manatee again, buster.”


End file.
